


Monster

by pineapplefan



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Ambiguity, Angst, Crying, Despair, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Enemies to Friends, Fear, Gen, Guilt, Loneliness, POV Second Person, Pain, Physical Abuse, Self-Hatred
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-04
Updated: 2019-07-04
Packaged: 2020-06-03 17:44:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19468948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pineapplefan/pseuds/pineapplefan
Summary: You're used to anger.Anger is easy.





	Monster

Her mother deals with her, your father with you.

He takes the keys to your car away.

Throws you against the wall.

Knees you in the back and you drop like lead.

Kicks you in the gut.

Bends over and shouts obscenities and insults in your face.

_Irresponsible, ungrateful, selfish piece of shit!_

All because _she_ disappeared and didn't return until 5-freaking-o'clock in the morning, with nary an explanation for where she'd been all night.

He's never messed you up this bad when she's in the house, you realize vaguely as he delivers one final kick to your stomach, causing you to cough and gag.

He's never messed you up this bad, period.

You can't move.

xxx

He stays away for three days.

You stay in bed.

They come to check on you. One forces food on you, makes you drink, tells you _I'm sorry_. Tells you _I don't know what to do_.

It's empty - she'll do what she always does.

The other lingers in the doorway every now and then. More than you thought she would. But she stays quiet.

You wonder if she thinks you deserve it.

Your knuckles throb and you think _maybe I do._

xxx

He comes back early Thursday morning.

"Get out of bed," he says. "Drive your sister to school." He tosses you the keys to your Camaro.

You're late getting ready - it takes everything in you to get dressed - but she doesn't scowl at you this time.

You stop at the kitchen to pop some aspirin. You roll your eyes at the fresh vase of daisies sitting on the table.

Her favorite.

xxx

The King's not there.

It's the first thing you realize as you put the car in park, and your knuckles twinge with the reminder.

The rest of their twisted gang is there, except for maybe one of the little ones.

They're huddled in a group, the rugrats all listening to what Softie has to say. He's got his arm around _her_. The Queen Bee.

They're in on some big secret. You know they are.

Red doesn't get out of the car right away like you thought she might.

She's staring at you. You can feel it.

You close your eyes and turn your head away.

You don't want to see her look of concern or lack thereof.

You're not sure you could handle either.

xxx

She joins them mere moments later.

You watch.

Queen Bee gives her a hug. Ball cap says something to make her laugh. Chocolate smiles at her like some lovestruck goon.

Something comes over you then. Heat on your face, an ache in your chest, a lump in your throat.

You don't want to admit that it's jealousy.

She says something that gets them all to look in your direction and you can't read their expressions.

You sink lower in your seat.

xxx

You nearly piss yourself when there's a knock on your window.

You hadn't realized that you'd spaced out.

The gang has disappeared into their respective schools and Freckles is gaping at you from behind the glass.

"Bell's ringin', man," he says, muffled. "You comin' or what?"

Yeah, you're coming.

Can't risk ditching school and him finding out about it.

Not now.

xxx

Freckles rattles on and on as you head to class, with his floozy prissing by his side.

He's too into _himself_ to notice your pained strides as you try to save face.

You pass Hawkins High's newest couple on the way.

Don't make eye contact.

Hear them whisper _monster_.

Wonder if they're talking about you.

His bloodied face flashes in front of your eyes.

You believe they are.

xxx

You don't make it through first period.

Everything aches. You feel like you could hurl. You barely know which way is up.

Someone taps you on the shoulder and you try to ignore the snickers that follow.

You must've jumped.

"She's talking to you," he says gently when you look back, and you blink because you'd forgotten he was in this class; hadn't even seen him walk in.

You return your gaze to the front of the room where Ms. What's-Her-Name is holding out a piece of chalk.

Hazily, it dawns on you that you're expected at the chalkboard to solve for _x._

But something inside of you snaps. Your ears start to ring. Your hands go numb.

"I can't," you hear yourself saying as a wave of panic washes over you, and it comes out abused and pitchy. _I can't. I can't. I can't. I can't. I can't._

Your heart feels like it's going to beat right out of your chest. You feel like you can't breathe.

This is all wrong.

You're used to anger.

Anger is easy.

This is different.

This is guilt. This is loneliness. This is fear. This is _despair_.

You've never felt like this before.

You've never _allowed_ yourself to feel like this before.

It hurts too much and it won't _stop_.

You screw your eyes shut. Feel your face flush from all the whispers surrounding you.  
  
You want to _die._

Then there's a cold hand on your forehead. Worried tones echo through your skull.

"I've got him," Softie offers.

You let him pull you up and guide you out of the room.

xxx

You feel like you're going to collapse and everything hurts, so he sits you on a bench in the hallway. You realize then that you're crying.

"No one's around," he tells you. "So just…"

_Pull yourself the fuck together._

"I'm fine," you grit out through gasps because he shouldn't be here. Helping you. You bang the back of your head against the wall; try to snap out of all the emotion that's smothering you. "Y-You shouldn't… Why're y-you…?"

"Stop," he says, and puts a grounding hand on your knee and he's as calm as ever. "Just try to listen to me. Can you do that?"

You close your eyes and nod.

"Alright, good." He lets out a deep breath, then tells you earnestly: "He's okay, man."

You reopen your eyes, not sure if you can trust. Not sure if you can believe.

You remember how he looked. What you had done.

It haunts you.

"That's what you needed to hear, right?" he asks. "That he's okay? Because he is. He will be. In fact, I think he might be in better shape than you right now."

You're too preoccupied with the relief rushing over you that you don't say anything to that, so he adds:

"Your sister's worried about you, you know."

Your chest tightens. "I ain't worth it," you say, trying to shake it off, practically spitting with disgust at yourself. "I can't control what I do half the time - I'm a fucking mons—"

"You're not a monster," he interrupts firmly. "I know monsters."

xxx

He takes you back to his house. He insists.

You don't have anywhere else to go, so you're not really in any position to refuse.

Everything _hurts_ and you just want to lie down.

xxx

En route, he gives you the heads up that _he's_ there.

"His parents are out of town," he tells you. "He and my little brother are keeping an eye on each other this week."

That changes everything.

"I can't," you tell him, the panic from before creeping back into your throat. "He won't want me there. He should… fuck, he should be pressing charges!"

"It'll be fine," he promises you with a little smirk. "He's taken a beating and forgiven it before."

You swallow hard, shifting your eyes to him. "You…?"

He nods. "Me."

xxx

When the two of you step in the door, the King stares at you for a moment, then stands from his spot by the kid on the couch.

He extends an olive branch in the form of a handshake.

**Fin.**


End file.
